


Dandelion Seeds

by palekwami (angstyfanboi)



Series: Self Care [2]
Category: Naruto
Genre: Aftercare, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Anxiety Disorder, Comfort, Depressed Uzumaki Naruto, Depression, Established Relationship, Fluff, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mentions of characters death, Minor Character Death, No Sex, No Smut, Not Beta Read, OCD, PTSD- A, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Protective Gaara (Naruto), Protective Haruno Sakura, Protective Inuzuka Kiba, Protective Uchiha Sasuke, Recovery, References to Depression, Romantic Soulmates, SasuNaru - Freeform, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Tattoos, Working Out My Feelings Through Fic, anxious naruto, ocd naruto, ptsd- a Naruto, tw: Mentions of Suicide, tw: mentions of blood, yes i am sad no i am not sorry because this is fluff!, yes this is my take on FLUFF
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-21
Updated: 2020-05-21
Packaged: 2021-03-03 00:00:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,547
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24305542
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/angstyfanboi/pseuds/palekwami
Summary: Some days are better than others, but for as long as Sasuke lives he’ll make sure even Naruto’s bad days are spent well. Because just like dandelion seeds, sometimes hope can blossom in between the cracks of the path to ruination.
Relationships: Uchiha Sasuke/Uzumaki Naruto
Series: Self Care [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1661053
Comments: 17
Kudos: 166





	Dandelion Seeds

**Author's Note:**

> I am back with more sasunaru. This happens 3 years after SERENDIPITY and though you don't necessarily need to read it (as it is strong in terms of content) it would help you understand the setting this story is in. Yes, this is still very self-indulgent, yes, this is still very much updated when i'm feeling down and wished i had a sasuke.
> 
> TW: blood/self-harm/suicide mentions, depressive episodes, recovery. Please don'r trigger yourselves.
> 
> ALSO: english never was and never will be my first language and this is not beta read. Please let me know if you find any mistake!

From the moment he left his house and entered the car that Uchiha Sasuke knows there is something wrong.

It’s a tension coiling in his gut, exasperated hands that grip the wheel in such a strong grip his pale knuckles are stained red and a translucent shade of sickly ivory, and a myriad of stolen glances to the faded mark— now he can only see the inner black whirl if he squints, and the red can be easily mistaken for a bruise— on his right pinky.

He hasn’t heard from Naruto ever since yesterday, two days after he kissed him goodbye and assured him he would be back in a week, that they would talk every day, that he loved him. His blond boyfriend had been eerily quiet and somber the whole Sunday, but still found it in himself to reassure Sasuke he’d be fine, keeping his eyes low not to show the brimming tears and the honesty he could never hide. Yet, by the second day, there was no spam of texts, no influx of memes, insults, playlists or even baby animal’s pictures, no notification stirring his phone and his nerves, just silence and a itching feeling on his spine and stomach.

It becomes easier to ignore when he gets to the old Uchiha manor, the place that swarms with ghosts of ancient family members that died within those walls, like the whispered legends and curses that always end up in the same premise that no Uchiha can ever find happiness and health inside the gates. Itachi lives there alone and he is as healthy as a young god. His older brother flicks his forehead with two fingers in the same subsided fondness he knows and for some time that’s all that he can focus on.

It becomes easier to ignore when Itachi is there to lecture him into sleeping more and drinking less coffee, to serve as a distraction while chugging iced-whiskey at two in the morning. They lick their old wounds raw and pretend nothing happened hours after, when the light is there to stain any dark-corner they use to hide, and shove the glasses on the washing machine, out of sight. The ghosts remain there, still, whispering in their ears to either leave or to stay forever, alone in the way any Uchiha is supposed to be for as long as they live.

And if Naruto’s messages are curt and strained, and if he’s asleep more often than not, Sasuke keeps trying to give him space instead of smothering him, allowing Naruto his independence because he’s his own person and not some damsel in distress that needs Sasuke’s help to forever keep him from falling. Still, it is hard for him to keep on pretending everything is alright with his boyfriend, and each day becomes harder until Sasuke is fidgety and seething with nervous energy accumulating in the pit of his stomach. Especially when he is plagued with memories of night talks when Naruto, stubborn and proud and insecure as he is, admitted it’s easier whenever Sasuke is around, with his scarred cheeks glowing with stains of pink and his lips as soft as his whispering voice— in a secret he only confides because there’s no one else to hear it. He didn’t care that the Uzumaki would do or say something idiotic afterwards, because no matter what he did to undermine his confession, his eyes would remain the clear shade of blue that speak wounded truths even when his lips lie, and the Uchiha would know that even if the moment was lost— in the way fleeting petals straying from trees are lost— Naruto was being honest and vulnerably raw, trusting him with his beating heart and all the secrets inside.

So he waits. He waits until it’s Wednesday and he hasn’t heard of Naruto for a whole day and still has no answer when morning comes. It’s a gloomy-looking sky, and though it doesn’t rain the darkening clouds show it won’t take much longer— and that should be enough of an omen, if he is to follow his creative writing class and find poetry and metaphors in the unraveling of the universe—, when he decides he needs real confirmation instead of spun lies that Naruto sends through text, knowing it’s easier to lie when they’re not face to face.

Thus he does the one thing he never thought he would do, preferring to not act impulsively like Naruto would, but rather coldly like his Uchiha upbringing taught him to.

He texts Kiba.

Naruto’s best friends are possibly as protective as Sasuke is, knowing what Naruto went through better than himself as they were there almost the whole time. The most possessive side of Sasuke hates it, hates that Kiba and Sakura were there when he wasn’t, saw parts of Naruto that he was only told in snippets, and got a chance at being forever etched onto Naruto’s skin with ink while the mark that binds them faded after they met. But now he can’t be picky and territorial, he doesn’t have the time or the mindset to.

Kiba’s text is almost immediate, much to his relief, but the words there leave him hollow and devoid of any relief.

_He hasn’t been answering since last night. What did you do Uchiha?_

Sasuke is tense, firm like stone yet he feels his toes trembling and he rubs the faded mark absently, a nervous habit he picked from early in his childhood after hearing the fairytales of soulmates and marks, and not understanding, at the time, the red whirlwind or what it meant.

Itachi notices the different posture, the hard edges on Sasuke’s haunted eyes, the firm grip turning his lips a sallow shade, but waits for him to tell what’s wrong rather than asking himself. Except he knows Sasuke won’t do it, not if it depends on him, so he walks closer until he is standing by the desk.

“I have to go.”

It’s the only thing he can do now, the only way of fixing things and calming his worrying heart, of making sure Naruto is alright. He should’ve known better, shouldn’t have ignored the signs for so long, shouldn’t be sure that Naruto would be alright without him knowing how bad his separation-anxiety is, but he did and now he’s shaking and his throat is raw with dryness and no matter how many text messages he sends, his boyfriend just won’t answer or see any.

He doesn’t concern himself with picking his bags or anything other than his phone, but before he can grab the car keys they’re already on his brother’s hand, and he almost screams in rage because he doesn’t have time for little games when Naruto might as well be alone in a bathroom bleeding to death right now.

“You’re in no condition to drive. I’ll take you there and you’ll bring him here.”

And Sasuke, true to his thoughts of not having any time to waste, doesn’t complain and walks briskly to the car, allowing Itachi to lock the door behind them. It’s a two hours drive and the more time he wastes the worst things can get. In the meantime, Sasuke texts Sakura and even Gaara to see if any of them heard anything.

Gaara is the first to answer, a cold ‘no’ that Sasuke can easily imagine him replying in a flat tone just bordering a menace, and he chooses not to say anything else. Sakura’s message arrives, precisely, six minutes and twenty-seven seconds later, and though it’s kinder than Kiba or Gaara’s, it still has the edge of protectiveness Naruto’s friend always have when it comes to him, though this one is respectful and it makes Sasuke take a few more seconds to answer before the group decides to panic.

_Itachi is driving me there and I’ll bring him to the manor after._

He just hopes his gut feeling is mistaken.

It’s not.

Itachi drove as fast as he could, probably even over the speeding limit much to Sasuke’s gratefulness, but he still thinks he should’ve decided to do this earlier.

He’s in front of Naruto’s door, and he’s close to kicking the door open, after knocking for three minutes straight and glaring at the complaining neighbors, when someone finally answers the door. It’s a relief to see Naruto after so many days worrying himself to exhaustion, but it’s not the sight he would hope in the best option.

The blond hair is greasy and disheveled, kept in a messy bun, more hairs falling over his eyes than kept in the hair bobble; his eyes are darkened by dark circles of lack of sleep and rimmed in red from exhaustion and maybe even tears; and he reeks of sweat.

“S-uke?” He mumbles in greeting, not knowing what to say, how to apologize for the mess, for being a mess. Sasuke has seen him when the days got harder due to his constant anxiety, but never like this, never after a depressive episode when he couldn’t find enough strength or energy in his body to eat or shower but couldn’t find sleep either, stuck in his own head, in the old cage inside his chest with the voices using the weakening clutch to break free and taunt him.

Sasuke doesn’t say anything, doesn’t try to push past him. His eyes are lost somewhere in his face, searching for something he doesn’t ask out loud, perhaps because he fears the answer or perhaps because it’s one of those questions that no one can really know the solution, but the silence makes it harder for Naruto to stand there, unmoving, and it soon becomes clear his head won’t allow him any break from the horrific mocking.

_Maybe he will break up with you now that he’s seen you like this._

_Remember the scar cutting the mark? It was an omen. Not that you didn’t know it already._

_No one will ever love yo-…_

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Sasuke’s voice wavers, he’s choking with air and saliva and frozen because he was supposed to be here, because Naruto lied to him all this time, and the fact he knew so still couldn’t prepare him enough to see him like this. He feels like everything is shattering in a cacophony of screams behind him, but in his ears there’s only a static echo of white noise and the loud staccato of his heart beating and breaking within his chest.

“I didn’t want to worry you.”

He laughs dryly, pressing the remnants of the mark, angrily inhaling because screaming at Naruto won’t make it better. It’s not his fault, it was _never_ his fault.

The knowledge only serves to anger him more, and wish more than ever to burn the whole to the ground if it means Naruto will get the warmth his childhood lacked.

“I don’t mind being worried if it means you won’t be alone. Let me in.”

And Naruto does. It’s not like he can stop him even if the visceral nausea of being so close is there, vicious and feral. Sasuke enters the apartment the same way he entered Naruto’s life, all at once and angered in between the cold layers of his Uchiha mask, and once again Naruto feels the need to pull back and find some distance to shove in between them, preparing the ground for when he stops soaring and crashes into the abyss once more.

His body tells him the fall has begun.

Sasuke strides to his room, hesitates to hold his hand— and deep down Naruto knows it’s because he doesn’t know how to deal with him when he’s like this, but this thought soon gets drowned in self-doubt and the ancient self-hatred he grew up with— but once his fingers gingerly touch and the feel of their digits brushing together reassures Sasuke of the living warmth residing underneath Naruto’s tan skin, he locks their hands fingers with a firm grip that reveals the panic corroding him, due to his boyfriend’s atypical silence that could only mean tragedy.

Sasuke carefully guides Naruto to the chair by the chaotically kept desk, with unsteadily towers of half-done assignments and carelessly open books, and then starts searching for clean clothes, finding one of his hoodies— this one, he remembers half-surprised half-unfazed, disappeared three months ago and it’s positively his favorite, all a dark navy blue and with the familiar red-white _uchiwa_ stitched on the front, by the left, lined in black— ironed and hanging neatly on the closet, unlike many other of Naruto’s clothes. He also picks some black sweat pants and clean underwear and socks and he hands them to Naruto, waiting for him to pick them up and change.

He is expecting the blank look already, the hollowness on the, always so bright, blue eyes dulling them at the edges and turning their depth not much more than a shallow puddle; but it’s still oddly painful and constricting to stare unforbidden to the hopeless sight, understanding that in moments like this there isn’t just a simple solution to help Naruto find his way home again, only a series of actions he can have to make it easier, like reassure him and be his strength when he lacks the energy to take care of himself like he normally would.

Naruto accepts the clothes, sluggishly, as if his body is immersed in cement and weighed down by chains and rocks, but Sasuke doesn’t rush him, just nods fondly in support and turns his backs to him to allow him to change, respecting his space and privacy but not trusting him to do anything if he is to be left alone. The rustling of clothes somewhere behind him is reassuring in a simplistic way, and in the time he is left waiting he muses to himself if Itachi will stay in the car the whole time or if he will come up to make sure everything is alright. It’s been three years and it’s safe to admit the Uzumaki kid made his way inside Itachi’s heart with an exasperated fondness of an irresponsible baby brother and fierce protectiveness of recognizing the same desire to protect Sasuke. Even if, right now, Naruto is the one who needs protection.

“I don’t feel like going outside.” Naruto admits, quietly, unsure if this will offend Sasuke in the way unfulfilled plans do, but the Uchiha only turns to him with a neutral expression of tender care and pained defensiveness. It thrums inside his chest but blossoms to be a numb emptiness that makes him want to crawl away and rip his heart out with a claw if it means he’ll feel anything other than the echoing hollowness of a gaping wound raw behind his ribcage.

“You’ll just be coming with me to the manor, come on.” He tells, doesn’t ask, just informs. He rushes silently to Naruto’s side and carefully urges him forward to the bathroom, preparing a toothbrush. He accepts it tiredly, and brushes his teeth in a slow pace that would annoy his boyfriend in any other occasion but now doesn’t do as much as cause a twitch on the thin brows adorning the deep, inky black eyes.

When he’s done, he washes his face without having to be told. He’s tired, exhausted, and doesn’t argue with Sasuke about going with him, though all he wants is to go back to his dark room and stay there until this unbidden dark cloud vanishes from his head. He wants to be left alone to drown, for just a bit, wants to cry and make promises of how he’ll go back to his normal sunny-self when the break is over, back to his prime and ready to go to class and hand his assignments on time and take care of himself. He just wants to be down in the abyss, alone and helpless as a reminder that he went through shit, that his life wasn’t always to smiley and happy as it is now.

He hates himself, feels the corroding guilt eating his insides in a viscerally monstrous way that makes him gag but unable to throw up as he hasn’t eaten in— … how long was it?—, for being unable to let go of his past, for allowing the voices to push his head further down the drowning need to wallow in self-pity and pain and desolation. He doesn’t even remember what the trigger was anymore, just that he was fine and suddenly he looked to an empty space and realization struck him harsh and at once and everything left him but the demonic voices.

“Come on.” Sasuke murmurs, spraying some cologne on his clothes. He plans on making sure Naruto baths and eats once they’re home, and then he will lay by his side and wait for him to open up and make sure to reassure him when he succumbs to doubts.

He takes Naruto’s hand again, this time not hesitating in the slightest, and grabs Kurama, the old plush of an orange nine-tailed fox Naruto sleeps with from the moment he was ten and back at the orphanage after the catastrophic adoption he went through. It makes the tension around the weary eyes lighter, and eases the firmness on the thin lips, now red from being pressed together for so long. Sasuke waits for Naruto to slip on the beaten-up sneakers, and after Naruto is ready and already waiting in the hallway, Sasuke gives the house another look to make sure he didn’t forget anything and locks the door behind him, shoving Naruto’s keys on his pocket— and feeling the heavy keychain of the orange and red frog settling on the inside.

They don’t let go of each other’s hand for the rest of the time.

Sasuke doesn’t usually believe in old tales of curses or myths and legends, but he knows his family history well enough to be privately wary of having Naruto within the walls that caused so many misfortunes to his family.

He doesn’t understand why Itachi doesn’t get rid of that particular house, the one that reeks with the stench of ancient blood and lingers with a heavy cloud of death whenever the heavy curtains sway. It’s possibly one of the few family heirlooms that doesn’t shower him in pride, unlike the clan-marked _katana,_ or the silver necklace around his neck with the clan’s symbol, or even the rest of the family’s houses and companies. This house just has too many memories of desolation and somberness and he is sure this is some sick way Itachi found of torturing himself in lack of a better way to cope with the unreasonable guilt consuming him.

Still, he doesn’t think there’s any other place he would feel like going, not when Naruto needs to rest and he promised his brother he’d spend the break with him. He knows Itachi doesn’t mind having Naruto around, and wouldn’t object in them staying in their flats, but Sasuke isn’t taking any chances of leaving Itachi alone either, not now that he has the need to be sure of his precious people’s security and wellbeing.

So he gently chides Naruto’s spent form inside, guiding him upstairs after sharing a silent conversation through stares alone with Itachi, requesting a tea and some light food as to not upset his boyfriends starving stomach and, once he gets to his room, pushes Naruto to sit on his bed and promises to be back soon.

He starts the bath, adding some aromatic salts he didn’t even know he had— they bring a soft wisp of lavender to the foggy air, and turn the water a pale shade of wisteria— and calls Naruto’s name, having to strain himself to hear the dragged steps and rapidly finding it harder to deal with the clutch on his chest when he realizes he already misses the bounce on the blond’s strides and his bottomless energy.

Sasuke helps Naruto out of his clothes, not because he can’t do it on his own but because he craves, has the visceral need to feel the thrum of heat and life tingling beneath his fingertips to remind himself Naruto is still there with him and not far gone. His eyes roam the tan skin, in the hue of bronze or marigold, finding the faded scars marrying several places, following the patterns etched with ink, most of them black though he knows there are colors too. It stirs the angry possessiveness and jealousy but he his fast to kill the flames before they turn uncontrollable.

“I have to text Sakura.” He mumbles as he sits inside the bathtub, shivering with his skin erupting into goosebumps. Sasuke is on his knees on the outside, and kisses his forehead in a silent response. It makes Naruto smile, and even if it’s light and softer— not much other than a slight curve on the corner of his lips— it lights up the cloud from Sasuke’s chest enough to give him hope.

He’s in his room, the bathroom door not entirely closed so if he cranes his neck he can see clearly Naruto inside the bathtub with his eyes closed and allowing the warm water to soothe away his weariness and the tension knots on his food-deprived and sleep-deprived body. He quickly texts Sakura to let her know Naruto is with him, though not entirely well, unharmed nevertheless, and thanks her when she answers that she will let Kiba, Gaara and Iruka know. That’s why she’s his favorite when it comes to Naruto’s friends.

“Sasuke…”

He grabs some clean clothes and rapidly goes back to the bathroom, worried and wanting Naruto to be alright and ready to do whatever it takes for it to happen.

“What do you need?”

His cheeks are stained rose, either from the heat or from something else he doesn’t know. Naruto opens his lids to reveal the immensity of his wide royal blue eyes, and though they’re heavy-lidded, they still look more focused and deep than when Sasuke first saw him earlier.

“You.”

There’s no hidden meaning behind the word, no lust or eagerness to clash, but Sasuke still feels the coil in his gut and has to hiss a deep breath, taken aback. He starts stripping off his clothes and once he’s naked Naruto shuffles to let him in, giving space so Sasuke can sit behind him and allow his body to slip in the space between his open legs. His backs are pressed hotly against Sasuke’s firm chest, and the rumbling of the Uchiha’s heartbeat is soothing enough to get Naruto to let his head fall on Sasuke’s shoulder and close his eyes, feeling content and not as somber as before, finally at ease.

Sasuke presses butterfly kisses on Naruto’s wet skin, on the sun-freckles dusting the muscled shoulders, or on the side of Naruto’s head, smelling the lavender on the wet hair and realizing Naruto dipped his hair sometime while Sasuke was away.

The raven-haired man lifts Naruto’s left arm and brings the hand to his lips, inspecting it when his eyes stumble upon smeared ink on the inside of his left pinky.

It’s a shaky _uchiwa_ , not colored red and white, just black. It was probably drawn with a pen and faded with the water, and Sasuke trembles slightly when he kisses the light scar he knows it’s there, angry like sullen waves because every scar that taints Naruto’s skin shouldn’t be there— he’s the sun, bright and loving and marking every single one of his important people on his body because he fears he won’t remember them in case they leave, all because he’s been hurt too many times for things he should’ve never be hold accountable for—, and he feels, rather than sees or hears, Naruto’s light gasp.

“I missed you and I didn’t want to bother so I-… I missed having the mark so I draw it to have you close to me.”

It takes a lot not to become a trainwreck right there and then, something only Naruto’s suave words manage to do to him, and instead he clutches his lover’s body closer to him, soaking on the warmth his skin radiates, and kissing the scar and the smeared mark and the faded mark underneath, murmuring love words against the skin with a ghostly pressure because he can’t break Naruto like the legends always say his family does.

They stay there for a while, Naruto sobs against Sasuke’s neck and Sasuke holds him still, never easing the soothing clutch, though his heart is breaking with every confession he gets of everything that went through the blond’s head during the time he kept on pretending he was fine. He still kisses the crown of Naruto’s head, reassuring him over and over again that he loves him, that he won’t leave, that he is not worthless or useless or easy to forget. Neither knows how much time it passes, and Itachi doesn’t disturb them to tell them that dinner is ready.

It’s nighttime and even though Naruto has his arms full of Kurama and is within Sasuke’s protective arms, he still can’t shut his head and sleep.

“What do you need me to do?” Sasuke utters against his temple, smooth lips soothing him ever so slightly, melting him body to a boneless state.

“What to our marks mean?”

Silence crawls around them, and though it would be considered comfortable in any other occasion— Naruto can be loud and rowdy, but when it comes to Sasuke he knows how to let his actions speak more than his mouth, and even in the quietude they find themselves understanding each other to the point it’s not awkward anymore— now it’s tense. Naruto is just about to apologize for it when Sasuke leaves another fond kiss on his skin.

“I’m just thinking, don’t worry.”

Naruto waits.

“The _uchiwa_ is used to stir flames, and I remember my mother telling me of how our clan chose it as our symbol as a translation of the fire within us. Sometimes the fire is hatred and sometimes it is passion, but each of us has it inside and it’s not something we can forget.” Naruto nods, contemplating, nuzzling Sasuke’s neck with his nose, “And Uzumaki means whirlwind, just like the mark resembles a swirl.”

He supposes it makes sense, and he wonders how come he never thought of it but then he remembers that as much as he claims he doesn’t mind some parts of his past anymore, deep down he still tries his best to forget his dead mother and his dead father and how he never got to meet them, and yet keeps their names in a show of slow torture and proud glory.

“I guess it means you’re in my life to stir the right flame inside of me, and I’m in your life to give you the light when you feel like staying in the dark.”

Naruto smiles against the junction where Sasuke’s shoulder meets his neck, whipping the stray tears against the tepid skin under. He whispers love confessions and memoirs of gratefulness, and when Sasuke’s lips find his he finds his head going quiet and decides to succumb to the fatigue consuming him at last.

**Author's Note:**

> Depressive episodes aren't pretty. Never have been never will be. In this house we don't romanticize it. It's ugly, it's heartbreaking, it's harmful, you know why? Because depression is a mental illness and you better treat it as such. 
> 
> Find me:  
> twitter: @/cadelawangxian  
> tumblr: @/sadntrash


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